Oh heed our advice, people up above
we speak with wisdom from dreams broken.
The majority we that decay in unknown urn
made of soil, fossils and bones rotten.
We spent our lives under sun and moon
Sans count of stars and our infinite wishes
Raising sword against brethren for no reason,
far away we huddled in dreary deserts and obese oceans.
We lived,ha!, lives of self torture
gazing at each setting sun with fresh promises
to wed pen and scroll in charming paradise.
Alas! Asundered always by sloth's soothing whispers.
Hark! O being, pleas of the decayed souls
Spend each day with a miser's fervour for gold
Lest you slide down amongst sorrowful us,
with box filled with raking remorses and vows unuttered.
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